The Aromatherapy Encounter
by beeprimo
Summary: When all that's left is against Sheldon's beliefs, he is willing to stand by it to bring Amy relief.


**Another one for good luck! Patiently waiting for the next episode...**

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**The Aromatherapy Encounter**

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"Hmm, what's that smell?" Amy announced as she entered their dim apartment. Amidst her weary state, her sweet voice still managed to conceal it. As she opened the door, she saw the only light visible was coming from the television, illuminating her husband's figure.

This wouldn't be the first in a week, but she's hoping this will be the last. In fact, she was earlier to come home than the previous days. The pleasant display that was waiting for her was always welcomed and accomplished to somehow lift her spirits.

"Hi," Sheldon greeted and stood up. Clad in his Friday pajamas, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pecked her cheek. "What you're smelling is lavender," he explained. "It's nice, isn't it?"

"It is. Oh, you got me flowers?" she gushed and looked at Sheldon from arm's length.

"Silly! Why would I get you flowers?" he brushed off her expectations, which got a frown from Amy. "It's lavender essential oil. I'm diffusing it," he said and pointed his other hand to an obscured-looking diffuser—puffing off fragrant mist-beside their television. Its luminous blue light was overpowered by the flashing of the screen.

"Um, is that even safe, Sheldon?" Amy asked as she nudged the door with the heel of her shoe, her hands still clung to his shoulders.

"I sought permission from your _OB-GYN_," he muttered, caressing her covered bump. "Although he relentless discouraged me with getting one on your first trimester, he explained that it was much safer on the second trimester."

Sheldon held her hand and led her to their pitch-dark bedroom. He turned on the lamp—assisting them to find their way into the darkness—and sat Amy on the edge of their bed.

"Hmm… Our room smells like lavender, too," Amy insinuated and watched as Sheldon knelt down and begun to remove her shoes and her tights

"Uh-huh… I kept it running in here for two hours before I moved it to the living room. That was before you came home," he explained. He brought up Amy's hands and bolstered her to stand up. Then, he meticulously unbuttoned her cardigan, then her blouse, to her tank top, now leaving her with her white bra and skirt.

Amy dropped her shoulders. "Sheldon… I'm tired," she apologetically gazed at him but he didn't budge.

"I know… I'm not forcing you to engage. I just wanted to see you," he whispered and went down on his knees, face to face with his progeny. She shuddered at his grip on her bare waist, resembling his touch when they were one-assertive yet delicate. Sheldon brushed his lips on her abdomen, again and again, flaunting his affection. Then, he settled his ear on her skin and closed his eyes, hoping to hear any movement.

"How far along are we?" Sheldon asked as his voice vibrated through her skin.

"Fifteen weeks and three days, Shelly," she answered. Her hand leisurely ruffled his hair, ultimately settling for his neatly trimmed sideburns. She became acquainted with a pregnancy timetable Sheldon's been tracking in his iPad, so she knew that him asking about how far along are they was just him wanting her to say it.

"Please don't call me Shelly in front of our child," he pleaded softly, still stroking his hands on her sides.

"Any movements down there?"

"You know we won't get that until at least 20 weeks seeing that this is our first pregnancy, right?" Sheldon answered, his lashes fluttering brought by his stillness.

"You and your timetable," Amy teased with a grin, fiddling with his locks.

Silence reigned across the room. The spectacle was remarkable that no one would believe that the man on his knees, with his face pressed against his wife's belly, was actually Sheldon. It didn't last that long because of Amy's reduced capacity to keep her standing.

"Sheldon… I'm really, _really_ tired," Amy beseeched as he initiated another stream of kisses on her belly. She knows her husband, at times, is passionate and zealous and she has nothing against him being excited about things, but the timing is just wrong.

He pressed one last kiss and tried to support himself up. He leered at Amy's droopy eyes and waived, "Go freshen up, Amy." He gazed at her figure strutting through the room and to the bathroom.

* * *

Amy was startled when she saw Sheldon creeping from the side of the door, as though he was waiting for his victim, "God, Sheldon!"

"What took you so long?" he moped with his shoulders slump. Her response was cut short when Sheldon gently grabbed her hand and led her to the bed. Then, he untied her robe and watch as it slid down from her porcelain body. "Sheldon, I'm really exhausted. Promise, I'll keep up tomorrow," Amy bargained with her conciliatory tone.

Sheldon wasn't responsive. Instead, he approached her assigned drawer, sliding it open, and retrieved a pair of panties and a nightgown-which he slung over his shoulder. He then went in front of her again and, without a word, started to dress her with no rush.

Amy knew that there's something keeping his mind unease. From the moment she entered the door, he was so caring and affectionate—not that he already wasn't. It was odd. Purely odd.

Sheldon instructed her to lie down in bed as he reached for a bottle, which she never noticed before, on top of the nightstand.

"Massage?" Sheldon offered, raising the pump bottle in hand. He didn't wait for her reply, instead, he cozied at her feet and started to lather oil on his hands.

Their situation was rather incredible to look at a distance. Not because a pregnant woman lying in bed with her husband doing the right thing and pampering his wife was a ridiculous situation. But because the husband and wife duo was Sheldon and Amy. No one really expected they'd be in bed together let alone with a looming addition to the bunch.

Before starting the massage, Sheldon grabbed an elongated pillow—resembling a hotdog—and used it as support behind Amy's knees.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Amy questioned, her head propped up by a pillow, gazing down at Sheldon.

"Carry my child," Sheldon nonchalantly answered and started oiling up her feet.

"Sheldon, I love the lavender oil. We should keep that up."

"Only up until the baby comes," Sheldon explained.

"Hmm, right at the heel," she requested. "Why?"

"I won't risk using it with a newborn in the room, especially if the baby's gonna bunk with us," he explained, putting pressure on her heel. "I pursued the advice of an aromatherapist, our OBGYN, and the American Association of Naturopathic Physicians." Amy scoffed at how silly the notion was.

"Yeah, laugh. Lucky for you, you have the best partner," Sheldon sulked, "then you ridicule him in return."

"Sorry. I wasn't laughing at you," Amy relented, now regretting on ribbing him.

"I'll let that pass," he declared. "Anyway, they said that it is not advisable for babies before three months. But for the record, daddy's prohibiting it until he or she turns one and is in good shape.

"Aww, daddy," Amy cooed and let out a giggle.

"I'm serious."

"I know," she apologized. "It has a lot of health hazard."

"Certainly is. I even lowered the diffused dilution by two percent to prevent any complications for you… for me… _and for the baby_," he whispered.

"Then why bother?" Amy asked. He lowered his gaze to her feet, never throwing it back to Amy.

Sheldon sighed heavily as he paused. "Amy… you'd been throwing up since the fifth week, had some dizzy spells during the day, and now… you're working late…"

"That's because I start work late, Sheldon. Promise, it'll be this week only. We were just caught up with the recent death of Dr. Gunderson…" Amy secretly wiped off a tear.

"Amy, just don't stress yourself," Sheldon beseeched. "As I said, you've been carrying a lot of tension, alongside with the baby, in your body."

"It's normal during the first trimester, Sheldon," she tried explaining.

"It is not normal if it persists every single day."

"Other days were quite tame, to be honest," she said.

"Still, it happens every day and it's only tame considering that we've entered the second trimester. That's the reason why you chose to go to work late, right?" Sheldon argued.

"Yes…" Amy surrendered. It's true. One month ago, she managed to talk to her department head about her morning battle during the first three months. Luckily, her superior was sympathetic enough to grant her, at least, a month's worth of half days, working from 12 to 5, unlike her usual, 9 to 5. But for the past week, they've been working past 7 to make up for the study left behind by their late colleague.

For Sheldon, those times, he felt like a worthless husband. He was supposed to be a partner to Amy but, instead, he was a spectator of her own demise.

"Nothing's working for your nausea," Sheldon softly explained. "I'm worried that you're not getting enough nutrients for yourself and the baby." Sheldon started his actions once again—slow vigorous stroked that brought Amy on her back again.

"My case was the where you drew the line and said 'Darn science! Let's shift to alternative medicine!'?" she imitated Sheldon.

Sheldon turned full crimson; partially from the slight irritation due to Amy's impeccable impersonation, and the other just from the embarrassment that Amy has full knowledge of what's going on in his head. He didn't have anything to say. No, he didn't want to say it.

"Yes, that's what I was thinking!" he blurted out, wide-eyed when he realized that it came out of his mouth instead of locking it in his thoughts. Sheldon sighed in submission.

"I thought you don't swear by pseudoscience?" Amy said. With her closed eyes, she smirked a little, expecting Sheldon to deny her allegations.

"What if I do?"

"Really? You, Sheldon Lee Cooper?" Amy asked in disbelief. When she thinks of anyone who believes in fate and destiny and quackery, Sheldon's name will not be leading the list. Heck, he'll never be on the list.

"There are branches under pseudoscience that I consider, somewhat, believable. Chiropractic, for example… or, or massage therapy, for that matter," Sheldon explained with his head looking down. As embarrassing as it was, he didn't hesitate to admit to Amy about his views regarding pseudoscience.

"Is that so?" she playfully questioned. She opened her eyes only to see Sheldon intently looking at her.

"Yes," he affirmed. "Now you can mock me," he breathed in surrender.

Amy's gaze softened. She was leering at him with a hint of remorse for ambushing him into this predicament. It was a big deal when Sheldon toned down his ego since it rarely occurs.

"I apologize." Amy regretted teasing him. "I shouldn't be attacking you like that."

"Don't be," Sheldon dismissed, still a little sheepish. "I'm only doing this for you."

Now, guilt was slowing succumbing her body. Amy pushed herself up by the elbow to a sitting position—which was easier said than done when one's pregnant. She then faced Sheldon who tilted his head in curiosity.

"I'm just teasing around, Sheldon." Amy lovingly brushed her hand on his cheek, as she smiled softly, rendering him pleased.

"I get that… But getting involved in aromatherapy, akin to massage therapy per se, might bring you comfort," he insinuated, gazing at her with understanding. "Just know that it's still pseudoscience. Might be another dupery in which we fall for…" Sheldon shrugged and leaned his head slightly toward her palm.

"Can be… but I'm getting a little relaxed with the lavender," she hinted, as she stared beyond his head at a diffuser innocuously put in the corner.

Sheldon's eyes lit up, as a small grin formed on his face. "Really?" He was giddy that at least he got to gratify his wife.

"Of course it does! I have no doubt about your judgment; you do really know what's fitting," Amy praised him. She winked at him suggestively. That was her way of saying that he did a great job and he might land a prize for that.

Sheldon chuckled at her. "That's why you married me," he said, still looking amused by his wife. "Now, why don't you lay on your back? I can't just leave you hanging."

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Let me know what you think!


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